


Old Wounds

by m00seface



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: DenNor, Hetalia, M/M, Old Wounds, aph
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:57:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m00seface/pseuds/m00seface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunken Denmark bothers Norway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanons: Denmark’s human name is Mikkel, Norway’s human name is Håkon.

“Hej, Nor. Y’love me, righ’?” He stood there leaning heavily against the Norwegian’s doorpost, a lazy grin plastered on his face as he gazed at him with a hazy look. It was the first thing he asked of him and all Mikkel got in response was a humorless stare. How often he showed up on his doorstep like this was lost to Håkon by now, though it was not often he was asked this particular question.

“You’re drunk. Go home.” A monotone response as usual, the subject of loving Denmark not being something he wanted to think about or discuss anymore. It was something he had pondered far too much and had been enough to send him into endless frustration at times. It was always in private as Håkon wasn’t the kind of man to express his emotions so openly. The man before him probably didn’t even realize.

“I’m serious, man. Jus’ say it,” he pressed, insisting on wanting to hear those words come from his lips, there being times like these that left him in heavy doubt. Their past wasn’t an easy one. There were good times, but very rough times as well and even nowadays their relationship could be rocky. The messy-haired blonde needed to know if, despite everything, they were okay. 

“I love you.” Once more his voice sounded flat, the words coming out rather forced. It was obvious Håkon just wanted to get rid of him already. The drunk, smirk still on his lips, merely shook his head at the unsatisfactory answer. He inclined, alcohol obvious on his breath, causing the Norwegian to scrunch his nose some at the unpleasant scent of beer penetrating his nostrils. 

“C’mon, put yer heart into it. Say it like ya mean it! I _know_ yer a better actor than this,” he retorted lightheartedly, yet insistent again. Håkon’s expression grew more sour for a moment, inhaling deep and exhaling heavily through his nose as he decided to give in and humor the Dane. Even if it was only for the sake of moving on from the subject.

“Mikkel, _I love you_.” The Norwegian’s gaze, albeit unamused, met the other’s this time around. His words were still forced but did not lack in sincerity. Knowing Håkon well enough, the Dane was quick to catch on. His trademark smirk faded to a smaller smile, indigo eyes less clouded as he gave his friend a meaningful look.

“Thanks,” he murmured, pressing a sloppy kiss to the other’s cheek, a light brush of his hand given along the opposing one. “I love ya, too.” Then he easily switched back to his usual demeanor, brows raising as he casually pointed a single finger past the Norwegian. “So.. I’ll be sleepin’ right over there. G’night.”

Before protesting was even possible, Mikkel already slipped past him and got comfortable on the sofa in his living room, earning himself a glare in disapproval. But it was impossible to deny him entrance to his home now. Håkon had to wonder if that entire display was just so he could have a place to sleep. While shaking his head at both his own foolishness and the Dane’s, he shut the door and put it on its night lock.

“..Idiot..”


End file.
